


You and Me, How About It?

by moreculturelesspop



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Always Female Dean Winchester, Childbirth, F/M, Female Dean Winchester, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Male Castiel/Female Dean Winchester, Nephilim, Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:54:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27462274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moreculturelesspop/pseuds/moreculturelesspop
Summary: The angels force Deanna Winchester to bear a Nephilim
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 1
Kudos: 79





	You and Me, How About It?

She wakes up in a room she doesn’t recognise. It looks like a nice hotel room. All fancy wallpaper and expensive bed linen. It smells clean. Not bleach clean but like nothing. She sits up and pulls at her long hair, it has fallen out of the pony she wore on hunts. This wasn’t a motel she’d stay at, or even be let into. She stretches out on the plush bed and feels how expensive the sheets are. She’d love to roll over and sleep, but she knows that would be a dumb idea.

“Where the-” she starts. Cas is by the door, using all the grace he has left to try to open it.

“Angels,” he grunts. She stands up with wobbly legs trying to remember how she got there. She and Cas were investigating a haunting, EMF was over the roof and then something wraps its hands around her mouth.

“Where are we?” she asks, clicking in her neck.

“Angels want us for something,” he says, turning around to look at her. “Deanna, are you okay?”

“Peachy,” she mutters, wiping the inevitable eyeliner smears under her eyes.

The room has no windows, and the door is sealed tightly shut. They search and they search for a secret door in the wall, a ventilation hatch in the ceiling, anything to get them out. Finally, a man appears from thin air in a white suit.

“Miss Winchester, I haven’t had the pleasure yet,” he says in a Southern drawl.

“Sandalphon,” Cas says, in a low growl, fist tightening at his side.

“Let us out dickwad!”

“Now, now,” he smirks, “Not words a lady should say.”

“Go fuck yourself,” she replies with a curled lip. He uses all his force to pin Deanna up against the wall. One hand pressed against her neck, the other trails its way down her body to rest on the button at the waistband of her jeans.

“That’s not the sort of language a mother of an angel should use. You see, heaven is missing angels, it needs a little power boost. Now we all thought Cas would finally come in use and create a Nephilim but he couldn’t even get it up for a beautiful woman like you.”

“Don’t touch her,” Cas says, but earns a celestial throwing across the room.

“You see you have the perfect body to bear an angel, or two. When Cas gave it all up for you, we thought we could at least get a new soldier. The righteous woman and the rebellious little angel were going to create a perfect child, but you couldn’t even do that right.”

“Fuck you,” she gasps, trying to breathe under his touch.

“You should be using your anger on Cas. Had he sealed the deal we wouldn’t have to be doing this now.” His hand has unbuttoned her jeans and she has to close her eyes to not see the look of glee on his face. She feels her body getting turned over and pushed against the wall. Both her hands are placed above her head. He’s too strong for her to do anything but hold her breath.

“I’ll do it,” Cas says, before her jeans can get pulled down. “Get your hands off her.”

“Well if I knew it was just a little bit of jealousy you needed, I would have tried this years ago,” He backs away from them and she sinks to her knees, massaging her neck. “You have 48 hours, and know I’ll be watching you.” And he’s gone.

“I’m sorry, I had to get him away from you,” Cas says, crouching beside her.

“I know,” she gasps. He helps her off the floor. “I feel like I need a shower now. For junkless gits, they sure like to touch the goods.”

“They are watching us now, waiting for us to have intercourse.”

“Man, if I could fuck my wait out of every case,” she laughs. Her laugh dies when she sees how solemn Cas looks. “It’s okay, rather you than him.”

“It is not okay. They are asking you to bear a Nephilim, to birth a child to be used as a weapon.”

“Have you ever thought about it?” she asks, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“About what?” he asks, with a furrowed brow.

“You and me?” he looks away from her, suddenly finding the chair in the corner interesting. “I have. When I heard about you and April, I was jealous. I kept waiting for the right time but there was never one. The monsters kept coming and the world kept ending.”

“I certainly have felt some attraction to you,” he mutters, still not looking her. She stands up and walks up to him.

“So you and me, how about it?”

“You don’t understand what they are asking of you.”

“I don’t want some Colonel Sanders getting hot and heavy on top of me. I want you.” He smiles weakly at her, eye filled with worry, but she pulls him in for a deep kiss. She knows how angels are once they get an idea in their head, she was genuinely scared at the way they would try to impregnate her.

She had planned this moment so many times, kept herself awake with the ways their first kiss would go. She wraps her arms around his neck and breathes him in. It’s that chick flick moment where sparks fly and the credits roll.

“You don’t have to pretend,” he mutters. She gently shakes her head and kisses him again. He’s a little hesitant but soon falls into the kiss, pressing his body against her.

“Is that okay?” she asks.

“It’s good,” She leads him towards the bed, where they sit awkwardly. She feels fourteen again, waiting for a boy to unpick her bra. “They are watching us.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve done the dirty on camera,” she says with a wink. She leans forward and they kiss again, this time their tongues blending together. He’s a good kisser, forceful and surprisingly rough. She’s pulling at his trench, desperate to see what is underneath that coat. She kisses down his neck, around that jawline, sucking at his earlobe.

He takes off his trench and jacket, letting them fall to the floor. She runs her hands down his shoulders and arms, feel how strong the muscles are underneath his shirt. He’s solid and powerful, his chest broad and strong.

“Is there a problem?” he asks. She laughs and unbuttons his shirt. She pushes him down so he’s lying on the bed before she mounts him. She straddles his waist, enjoying the contact of her crotch against his own. She leans over him and kisses him gently, reassuring him that this was very much what she wanted.

He flips her over and looks down at her with a passion she didn’t know he was capable of. He strips her, struggling with her jeans, until she is left in her bra and panties. “You are beautiful,” he says with a gummy smile. He removes his shirt, adding it to the discarded pile of clothes on the floor. She gulps as he stands to remove his slacks. His boxers are plain and gray, but entirely smug against his bulge.

He wraps the sheet around them, trying to protect their modesty. She feels him gulp in nervousness as she removes her panties. He has no issues taking her bra off. She guides his hand between her legs, letting her feel her wet core. She shows him where to rub and he easily slides one finger in. She rests her head in the crook of his neck, gasping for breath. She’s soon rutting as she bends his fingers to perfectly hit the spot, his thumb rubbing at her clit. She comes, her head tilting back against the plush pillow.

“I haven’t come like that in years,” she gasps, her chest heaving in ecstasy. He raises his wet fingers up and inspects them, before licking her taste from them. “Come here,” she whispers, hooking her fingers into the waistband of his boxers.

When he enters her it feels right. She had forgotten what it felt like to have sex with someone you have feelings for. It was so wholesome and pure. They entwine their limbs together and nuzzle at each other’s cheeks. It takes a few strokes for him to find a rhythm, but they fall perfectly in sync. He doesn’t last as long as they both would have liked. He rests his head against and mutters, “I love you.” She smiles and kisses him back.

He lets her sleep on his chest, his firm broad chest the perfect pillow. He wraps his arms around her and it reminds her of purgatory. She shouldn’t feel safe in his arms, but she does. When she wakes up, no idea how many hours had passed, he is still led beside her. “So, it’s done?” she tiredly asks, holding back a yawn.

“It?”

“You knocked me up?” she asks, rolling onto her back and stretching her legs out.

“I did not,” he says.

“Firing blanks?” she smirks before rolling onto her side to face him.

“I am not firing blanks,” he replies, with an eye roll. “Was it okay? I am not as experienced.”

“Are you calling me a slut?” She laughs before kissing him deeply. “It was perfect,” She lays naked in his arms, drifting and out of sleep. She feels him trace patterns in her back, symbols in Enochian and strokes her golden streaked hair. “What happens if you’re firing blanks. We stay in here forever?”

“I don’t want to think about it,” he says, gripping her tight to his chest.

They make love side by side, her leg hooked over his hip. What would happen once their time ran out? Would they just kill them both or would he do the job himself? They make love like it was their last time together, the clock ticking over their heads. She gasps out her love for him, clawing at his back, a weighted lifted off her chest with those three words.

The lay naked and entwined, kissing gently and apologising for all their mistakes. She falls asleep again, the bed more comfortable then any she had ever slept in before. When she wakes up once more, he has fully dressed again and seeking an escape route once more. She dresses slowly and notices he won’t make eye contact with her.

Finally, Sandalphon reappears, still wearing that godawful white suit. “Well Castiel, I didn’t think I had it in you.” He stares at the floor and then suddenly a flash of light appears. Two fingers touch her head, and she falls to the floor with a thud.

She wakes up in the familiar motel room, it smells like damp and fried food. It smells like her childhood. The springs dig into her back and the ceiling fan is mouldy. Cas is on the phone, pacing up and down the room. She sits up in the bed, feeling her head throbbing.

“What the fuck happened?” she murmurs, rubbing at her eyes.

“Hello, Deanna,” Jack says with a wave.

“How did you find us?” she asks.

“I felt something,” he says with a furrowed brow. “Something like me.”

“You didn’t?” she warns, slowly clambering out of the bed. Cas looks down in embarrassment, rubbing at the back of his neck. “You didn’t?” she asks again with a deep voice. She can see the answer in his eyes, full of shame and apologies. She can’t look at him.

She hides in the bathroom. She had known that was the point of the exercise, but she had presumed it wouldn’t work. She was pretty sure a couple that had been killed as much as they had shouldn’t have the working part to create a little life.

She takes a long hot shower. It was her own fault, she had gotten caught up in the moment. The idea of her angel wanting her, the idea she could finally have him in her arms. She punches the shower wall in anger, she had signed her death sentence because she couldn’t keep her legs closed.

The shower runs cold and she sits in the dirty bath until she shivers with a chill. She was going to get rid of it, Cas was going to get rid of it. He had a plan when he put it in her, right?

“Deanna!” he shouts, banging on the door. “We should go back to the bunker. It’s not safe here.”

“I’ll be out in a minute,” she croaks. Now she had a target painted on her back. Painted on her uterus? (She was never going to say those words out loud). She tries to wipe away any evidence of tears with the motel towel. “You got a plan?” she says, opening the door.

“We need to get back to the bunker. It’s not safe out here for you now,” he tells her.

“Precious cargo on board,” she says. He grabs her by the arm as she tries to walk past him.

“I’m sorry, I tried to-”

“Let’s go,” she interrupts. She acquires a boring chevy, letting Jack sit upfront and forcing Cas into the back. Jack flits through radio channels and chats like her world isn’t ending.

She can’t look at him. She knows they did this together, deep down she knows. It’s not his fault. Every time she looks at him, she can see him writing her death sentence.

Sam runs to the bottom of the stairs when she opens the bunker door. “What happened, you weren’t picking your phone up?”

“Ask Cas,” she grumbles. She spends the next few days asleep in her room, Sam gives her the space she needs. She presumes Cas has explained the situation to him.

She lies on her back and splays her hands over her flat belly. She never wanted to have a baby, human or Nephilim. Life was cruel and filled with awful creatures, why would she want to inflict on something so precious as a child? She looks up as she hears a knock on the door.

“Deanna,” Cas says, closing the door behind him. He looks at the floor sheepishly. “I’m sorry.”

“I know,” she murmurs. She feels the bed dip under his weight. The last they were in this position they were making love and created a child.

“I understand you do not want to have the child.”

“It’ll kill me,” she murmurs, staring at the ceiling. “I don’t want it. I can’t have it.” She feels a tightening in her chest as she says those words.

“Let me do it.” She sits up slowly, looking at his pained expression.

“You’re going to get rid of our child?”

“I must, this is my fault,” he says, brows furrowed. He looks at with an expression of grief. Years ago this would have come easy to him but now he knew the joy of being a father, of the unconditional love of a child.

He leans towards her and places his hand under her shirt, strong hands on her toned belly. She feels a jolt run through her body, a warm ball of energy sitting under her ribcage. He squints in confusion, his hand pressing firmer against her body.

“What’s wrong?” she asks.

“I’m not strong enough, it’s stronger than me.”

“What do you mean? Isn’t it just a cluster of cells,” she says, her voice high with panic.

“Yes, I must be too weak in grace to being able to…”

“Kill it?” she offers.

“Yes,” he murmurs. “Jack is strong. Stronger than me.”

“Jack is not wiping out our kid!” she snaps, pulling away from his touch. “I will not have that sit on his conscience; the kid has enough issues how it is.”

“Deanna,” he huffs.

“No, I’ll go and see a doctor about it. That’ll work, right?” she asks, noting the begging tone in her voice. He nods, but the hesitation indicates he doesn’t exactly know.

She tells Sam that she is going to get an in-clinic abortion as soon as possible. Turns out that soon wasn’t soon enough.

“Technically you’re not pregnant, it’s just an anxious egg and a whole bunch of eager sperm,” Sam explains.

“Please never say any of those words again,” she replies, before drinking a very strong coffee.

Turns our normal people who don’t have supernatural stepchildren don’t realise they’re pregnant moments after conception. Life carries on as normal, except she can’t bear to look at Jack and Cas. When she isn’t hunting, she is hiding in her room.

Five weeks later she starts to get the symptoms. She has her first bout of morning sickness, she has her first cramps and suddenly becomes exhausted all the time.

She’s six weeks pregnant when she drives with Sam to Wichita. She scheduled an abortion for the earliest they could do. It’s expensive and it’s scary. The idea she’s going to be knocked out with her legs open is more terrifying than any vampire or demon or wraith.

Sam has to be with her, has to drive her home, has to pick up her corpse if her half breed child decides to kill her early. She stares at the posters, watches the pregnant bellies, sees the happy couples. Why couldn’t she have that?

“You know we could find another way?” Sam asks, having been mostly silent on the drive and wait. “There has to be a way you have this baby and don’t die. Cas isn’t as powerful as Lucifer. It’s different.”

“You saying I should give it all up for the apple pie life. Get a little house in the country and become a real housewife of Kansas?”

“No, I’m just saying you don’t have to do this.”

“Ann Wilson,” the nurse calls. She sits silently, looking down at the linoleum, feeling Sam’s eyes on her. She stands up, clears her throat and walks out the door away from the nurse. Sam follows her to the Impala.

“I won’t do it. We save people, we don’t kill them,” she murmurs, before climbing into the Impala.

“I thought you were getting an abortion,” Jack says with a frown as she gets back to the bunker. He looks so much like Cas, she can’t look at him.

“You kept it!” shouts Cas, before she can even make it up the stairs into the library.

“Why does it deserve to die? Because its parents were fucking idiots,” she snorts. He stands up with clenched fists. She’s in shock when he grabs her by the coat lapels and pushes her against the wall.

“This thing is an abomination. You aren’t thinking right,” he growls in her face, his grip tight against her chest and his body pressed up against hers.

“They might be good, they might do something good.”

“They will be used as a weapon, they will be exploited and hurt by heaven.” He loosens his grip on her, letting her gasp for breath.

“You believed in Jack. Why won’t you believe in our child? A kid we made.”

“A child we made because they were going to rape you. They were going to use your body to create a weapon they could exploit. You are my weakness, Deanna, they know that. You can not carry this child. It will kill you, it will kill all of us.”

Deanna sinks to her knees, feeling sick the stomach and like she could sleep for a thousand years. He saw the good in Jack, even when they couldn’t, he died for Jack. Now he couldn’t even accept their own child may be good. It seemed so alien that they could have made something good. He walks away, not even looking back at her crumpled body. She lets out a scream and hits the tiled floor with his palms.

“I don’t think they are bad,” Jack says. She had forgotten he was even there, sat quietly watching it all unfold. He crouches in front of her. “I think you and Cas are good people. I don’t understand why anything you would create would be bad.”

“Thanks, kid,” she says, finally looking up at him. Their kid would have his blue eyes, would have his furrowed brows, would have his worried look. They would hopefully not have her anger, her freckles, her coping mechanisms.

Cas doesn’t come back and she refuses to interact with anyone. All she does is pee, eat grilled cheese, cry and sleep. She’s so tired, her breasts so sore, she can barely eat without throwing up. She Googles every symptom, there is nothing special about her pregnancy symptoms. This wasn’t some side effect of being knocked up by an angel, this was totally normally. Why would woman want to go through this multiple times?

Sam brings her a paper bag of vitamins, a pile of pregnancy books and anti-vomiting medication. 

“Cas asked after you,” Sam tells her, perching on the end of her bed.

“Am I doing something really stupid?”

“No. I trust your choices. I always have. I’m here. I won’t let anything happen to you.” Blame the hormones but she leans over and wraps her arms around her brother.

Sam is a lifesaver those early weeks. Giving her antacid when her heartburn keeps her awake, buys her fibre rich food and doesn’t wake her up when she falls asleep on the couch. He takes Jack on hunts and leaves her to rest.

Her ninth week is her hardest. She vomits so much she actually starts to lose weight. At one point she takes a bowl into her bedroom because the runs to the bathroom were getting too much. None of Sam’s remedies work, in fact, they make her sicker. She won’t go to the doctors, there is a target on her head from both angels and demons, and probably all the other creatures in the shadows. She knows she can’t leave this bunker until her baby is born, she knows she will never go outside again because she is aware she will not survive the birth.

Cas returns when she is in her tenth week of pregnancy. She has already started to get a small bump and her breasts have gone up over a cup size. She doesn’t know Cas is back until she bumps into him on her way out of the bathroom.

“May I sit with you for movie night. I believe Jack is watching a Tom Cruise movie called Top Guns.”

“The most homoerotic film in existence, great,” she mutters. She feels duped because as soon as Jack sees Cas he moves to the floor, forcing Cas to sit beside her. She soon falls asleep on the angel, because that is what she does. He carries her to her bed, because that is what he does.

“I’m sorry, Deanna,” he says. He lays her flat on the bed and lays down next to her. “I was looking for a solution.”

“To kill our child.”

“No,” he says quickly, “To save you.”

“But you think our kid is an abomination.”

“For many years I believed producing a Nephilim was an abomination. I murdered people for it, the penalty was death. Worlds died when Nephilim came into power. They destroyed worlds.”

“And now. What do you believe?” she asks, rolling over and winces at the ache in her hips.

“I believe,” he replies, turning on his side to face her, “that Jack is good, we made him good. Our child will not be as powerful as Jack, they will not be as strong, but they will be good.”

“I want a baby, I want a family, I want to be a mother,” she murmurs.

“I have to find a way to save you,” he begs, “I need you Deanna, I need you to be alive.”

They make love that night, but he’s gone by the time she wakes up. He leaves a note saying he has a lead. Tells her that he loves her. Tells her he is sorry.

By her twelfth week, her bump is unnaturally big. She’s only gained five pounds but she feels like she is carrying a small toddler. Around this time Sam realises that Nephilim can be born from around five months, suddenly their time was running out. Judging by the size of her, they were already done baking.

“Do you want to see it?” Sam asks. “Your baby. I was thinking of getting an ultrasound machine, or at least a doppler to hear the heartbeat.”

“No,” she sighs, resting her head in his hands. Her body was so tired, her joints aching and morning sickness ongoing. “I don’t want to know. I want to keep on thinking my baby, mine and Cas’ kid is okay, is good and healthy and freaking normal,” Sam nods, but he doesn’t get it. She touches her belly, feeling it protrude above the top of her pelvic home. She gets up and feels a sharp lower abdominal pain that causes her to sink back into her seat.

Sam jumps up and crouches up beside her, his hand on her knee. “You okay?” he asks. She nods tearfully, her hormones overtaking all her emotions. “You need to take it easy,” he reminds her. “You’ve look after me my whole life and you’re going to look after this kid for its whole life. But for now, I need you to look after yourself and let me help.”

“I’m not going to even be there for its first breath,” she murmurs.

“No,” he says, shaking his head softly. “Cas and I, we’re going to find a way, we always do.”

She’s never been gladder to have Sam around, Cas still MIA. She is too tired to function, too sore to move, too sad to care. He puts together a diet that helps with her constant morning sickness, puts together an exercise plan she mostly ignores and starts to buy all the boring stuff they need.

She has to finally say goodbye to her wardrobe and results to wear ugly dresses. She was so uncomfortable and warm, she didn’t care how she looked. Jack tells her he looks pretty and she starts to feel more like a mother, starts to look like her own mother. Sam buys her a pregnancy belt to help hold up her huge belly, she has to never been so thankful for a piece of Velcro across her body.

She’s stood in the library with Jack and Sam when the door finally opens.

“Where the fuck were you?” she screams at a sheepish looking Cas.

“Deanna, you are glowing,” he says, walking up the stairs towards them.

“No, you don’t get to come back in here!” she screams with tears in her eyes, “I needed you, we needed you,” she says and before she knows it she has slapped him across the face. He doesn’t move but a look of disbelief comes across his face.

“I was following a lead, someone who had a spell, something to save your life.”

“I need you here Cas, our baby needs you here,” she screams, tears running down her face.

“Has there been a problem?” he asks, fingering the belt around her belly.

“I’m fucking huge!”

“It’s to support her lower back,” Sam adds, from where he was sat at the table.

“Is everything okay, are you okay, are they okay?”

“She won’t let me do a scan,” Sam grumbles.

“They are both fine,” Jack adds, not looking up from his laptop. “The website says they are the size of lemons.”

“Both of them?” Sam asks with eyebrows raised.

“Yes, the two of them,” he replies. Deanna runs to the nearest trash can to throw up the remnants of the healthy lunch Sam had made them. Cas runs to her side before Sam can get up, rubbing her back and looking back at Jack.

He takes Deanna to her room, a hand on her back the whole way. He notices the way the room has changed, space made for baby things and a large body pillow taking up the space he should have slept the last few weeks.

“Breathe,” he reminds her, making her sit at the edge of the bed.

“There’s two of them,” she gasps. He sits beside her and rubs circles on her back.

“Two wonderful babies,” he reminds her.

“Abominations, that’s what you called them.” He slowly takes of her pregnant belt, the rip of Velcro loud in the silent room. He throws it to the side and takes a look at the full glory of her large belly. Her large belly filled with two life forms that would kill her. He gently places a hand on her belly and she covers it with her, lacing their fingers together.

“I’m sorry. I should have believed you.”

“Stay Cas, I need you,” she murmurs.

“I have to save you,” he says, resting his forehead against hers, “You can’t die because of me.”

He stays that night, cuddled around her, his hand under her belly to ease the pressure. She swears she feels movement inside her belly for the first time, little rumblings happening in her lower abdomen.

He’s gone a few days later. She shouts and she cries, she begs and falls to her knees, but he doesn’t stay. He has a mission which he has to complete, he has a lead he has to follow. She sits on the floor and sobs until Sam finds her.

He puts her arm around her and she lets him hug her tight. Her head falls to his lap. “He’s doing this to save you. He truly believes he can save you. He wants to be with you as much as you want him to be here.”

She would rather die with him by her side, that alone with the possibility he’d find some way of bringing her back.

She takes long baths to ease the symptoms. Her legs cramp, her back aches and hips are constantly in pain. Sam buys her all the body pillows the Impala can carry, keeping one in every room to trying and ease her discomfort. Her phone rings and she struggles to reach out and pick it up from the floor.

“Cas,” she murmurs.

“How are you?” he replies.

“Big. You know the baby, babies are the size of an endive, whatever that is. I have an app that tells me.”

“Are you in pain?” he asks. She absent mindlessly strokes her large belly, that peers up between the bubbles in the water.

“All the time,” she laughs. “I’ve started having these, um, pains in my belly. Ligament something. It’s weird.”

“I’ll be home soon.”

“You’re not missing much, I’m pretty fucking big.”

“I imagine you are still beautiful,” he sincerely tells her, and she finds herself beaming down the phone.

The next time she has a bath she has closed her eyes when she hears the door open. She’s already had to teach Jack to not use the toilet when she was in the bath.

“Hey!” she scolds, sitting up.

“Hello, Dean,” Cas says.

“Cas,” she grins. He gets down on his knees and she leans over to hold his head in her hands. She kisses his forehead and feels him melting into his touch. “I missed you.”

He helps her out the bath, her centre of gravity completely off. He gets to his knees again and kisses her round belly, his hands on her soft hips. He wraps her in a towel that is getting far too small for her body, and helps to the bedroom. She drops her towel and lets his stare linger over her. She was huge with swollen ankles and stretch marks forming on her hips and thighs.

She feels pretty under his gaze, she always had. She had felt worthless most of her life, sexy and fuckable, but never pretty. She was the hot woman you’d fuck in a bar, the dangerous bisexual you have car sex with, she was never pretty, she was never valued. Then Cas came along and told her she was worth saving. Looked at her like she was the most perfect woman alive. Made her feel like she mattered.

She picks her tubs of moisturizer off her bedside table. He leans in and takes her face in his hand, cupping her jaw lovingly. He leans in and kisses her gently. She smiles into it, wishing she could push her body against his without the bump between them.

She has to sit at the edge of the bed, her body too heavy to stand for too long. He sits down beside her, and they kiss again, their knees knocking together. He takes the moisturizer from her hand and opens it. He smells the light vanilla scent, before dipping a finger in it. He smears it across her new, large breasts. She looks down at the smear of white and laughs. She dips her fingers into the jar and smears on the dry skin of her hips. He rubs it in into the stretched skin. She hadn’t really how horny she was until she felt his touch on her skin. He starts to rub moisturizer across her belly and hips, his hand sneaking up under her breasts. She rests her weight back on her arms, outstretched behind her, and tips her head back in enjoyment.

Her libido had been sky high the last few weeks. She had spent the last few weeks, during her insomnia, masturbating through the night. She found a good self-induced orgasm helped ease her joint pains. She lets Cas rub her swollen body until she thinks she’s going to come, he’s using his grace to help ease some of her soreness and the warm pulses are going straight to her crotch.

Before she knows it, she’s on her back and her angel is between her legs. His tongue is lapping at her, before he pulls away and inspects her anatomy. He goes back in and hits her clit straight away. Years of men poking around down there, and he was there with all these skills.

He sticks around for a few weeks after. She finally feels comfortable to nest, now all her family was here. They set up a room with two of everything in it. Jack gets involved in decorating, although paints more of himself than he does the wall. Cas finds flat-pack furniture infuriating and she sees him lose his cool at an alarming frequency. Sam is a bit better, although he gets a little too excited at the instruction manual.

Cas gets into paternal mode, researching birth plans and learning every breathing method ever invented. Sam buys her more comfortable furniture for the Deanna cave, turns out every chair in the bunker was greatly uncomfortable on her everything. She sits on their new sofa, her back pressed against Cas’, her legs up on a little stool. Jack and Cas have put together a list of names, most of them entirely strange and definitely not what she was going to call them. She appreciated their enthusiasm.

She rubs her belly, feeling quite forceful kicks under her fingertips, and thinks about how lucky her children will be to have such a wonderful family. Cas is already a wonderful father, Sam the most loving uncle a kid could have and Jack was so excited to be a big brother. She was just sad she wouldn’t be alive to see it.

She doesn’t sleep but it gives her more time to spend with Cas. She realises that she had been entirely in love with him the last decade or so. She only wishes she had done this early (the fucking and the talking, not the knocking up).

She finally comes round to doing morning prenatal yoga with Sam. It feels silly but really does help the aches as she hits her third trimester. There was no hint that the babies wanted out, giving them hope they were more human than celestial.

Jack helps with her kick count in the mornings. He places both hands on her large belly, brows furrowed, and feels how many times they both kick.

“I wish you’d let me get an ultrasound machine, or at least a doppler,” Sam adds.

“It’s fine, Jack uses his mojo. Big brother says they are okay.” Jack beams whenever he gets called big brother and she knows he’s going to love the little duo, even if he’ll be a chaotic influence on them.

“A little brother and sister.”

“One of each?” she murmurs, leaning back and blinking. Her eyes well up. Knowing their gender gave them some form of identity, she could start to picture what they looked like, two faces she would never see again.

She thinks labor has started after she and Cas finish a rather long and slow 3 AM sex session. Cas makes her lie on the side and drink a glass of cold water, and they calm down. She thinks it would be a pretty funny story to their kids.

Cas leaves when she is 33 weeks pregnant (it’s the size of a celery). He has a pretty good lead in Alaska, he thinks he has found a spell that could save her. She’s too tired to waddle after him, she knows it wouldn’t do anything to make him stay.

She spends the next few weeks in her room, not feeling in the jolly nesting spirit anymore. She’s overheated, she’s tired, she’s forgetful and always needs to pee. Every time she gets a pain she panics, she’s not ready to go, not ready to leave her family.

“I have so much left to do,” she sobs into Sam’s arms. He holds her tight and reminds her that Cas has found a solution. No, Cas thinks he found something, and she had given up hope months ago.

She writes a letter to her babies. She tells them about her parents, about childhood, about her life. She ponders writing a version of her life without monsters, an edited fairytale where everyone she had loved hadn’t died. She writes about her love for Cas, about her love for Sam, about Jack, about Mary, about Bobby. She wishes Bobby could hold her child and pretend he didn’t love them like his own grandkids, she wishes her mother could hold her hand during her labor, she wishes Charlie could distract her with her silly science fiction tv shows.

She sobs into her desk. It was all happening too soon. There was too much left to do, so much left to say. She had felt this before, the ticking time bomb over her head, but back then it was her and Sam, two siblings on the road with the sweetest car in existence. Now she had a home, had a family, had a partner. She cries for all the moments she would miss with her children. Their first bath, their first words, their first day at school. She wouldn’t be able to soothe their cries, tuck them in at night, teach them how to tie their lace. Sam and Cas would do a good job, she knew that, but they would never meet their mother.

It’s 3am when she feels the first pangs of pains. She’s 37 weeks, which is overdue for a Nephilim but late for a human. She tries a bath but feels too nauseous to enjoy it. Instead, she watches some TV and naps between pains. Jack joins her, cuddling up to her side like the little child his birth date indicated.

“It’s okay,” she murmurs into his messy bed hair as he looks at her concerned. The pains are minimal but different from the Braxton Hicks she had been complaining about the last month. Unlike her previous pains, they don’t stop. They change intensity and frequency, but no cold glasses of water are going to help.

She goes back to bed and tries to distract herself with music and TV. 3 days later and she’s still in the same spot, her muscles aching and her joints tired. Nothing is painful enough to make her scream but noticeable enough to wear her body out.

“We have to call someone,” Sam says with a frown. Deann’s holds Jack in one hand, and rests the other over her face.

“We can’t go to the hospital. No one can know,” she whimpers. By now, she was wishing it would just use the sunroof and burst through her chest. Sam disappears despite her complaints.

An hour or so later a swish of chiffon and red curls bounces into her room. “My you have been busy,” a Scottish lilt says.

“You called Rowena?” Deanna grunts.

“I’ve been birthing babies long before the Winchester,” she says, dropping her bag on the bed. “What’s going on with the wee ones.”

“There’s two,” Jack smiles, holding up a v sign.

“You’ve been very busy with that wee angel of yours, haven’t you deary.”

“You told her?” Deanna snaps.

“I had to tell her it was Nephilim.”

“Like I didn’t see all those heart eyes,” she smiles. “Now let’s get back to helping these wee ones topside.”

“I have to wait for Cas, he has to be here.”

“We women have been birthing babies without men for centuries. He’s done his bit, now it’s down to you and you are a terrifyingly strong woman. You got that?” She gulps and nods. She lifts up Deanna’s t-shirt to reveal her large belly. She places her hands on it, pressing gently into it. “One is head down, the other is being rather naughty but we’ll deal with them when we get to them. Now Samuel,” she starts, standing up, “we need ingredients.” The pair talk through a list of herbs and exotic ingredients before sitting back down on the edge of her bed. She takes Deanna’s hand and places it on her lower abdomen. “there is your wee one’s head, all ready to meet her or his mommy.”

“I can’t do this,” she sobs.

“Don’t be so silly. It’s the most natural thing in the world. Women have been doing this before the wheel was discovered.”

“It’s so painful. Is it supposed to be this painful?”

“Oh yes,” she smirks. “And then your brain will make you forget all about it. That is how so many women have been duped into having babies. Now, have your waters broken?” she asks. Deanna shakes her head and feels the nausea rushing over her again. “Lying in bed is going to no one no favours.”

“I can’t move,” she gasps, gripping into Jack’s hands.

“You have an infirmary, right?”

“Yes,” Jack answers. “Cas and I put lots of equipment in there.”

“I can’t move,” she gasps.

“Yes, you can,” she says, gripping Deanna’s shaking knee. “We’ve got this strapping lad to help you.”

Jack helps her to her feet, and she has to admit the new position makes her feel a bit better. Jack helps her up to the medical room, she leans on him the whole way and has to stop once to work through a contraction.

When she gets to there she climbs onto the bed on all fours. It feels instinctive and natural to be in this position. Rowena disappears and comes back with Sam and their ingredients. Deanna finds this position has sped up the intensity of the contractions.

“Has your water broke yet, love?” Rowena says, a calming hand on the base of her spine. She shakes her head and rocks her hips from side to side. “Do you think I could check what’s going on down there?”

“I don’t really care right now.” Rowena helps her lie onto her back, despite really not wanting to get back into that position. Her panties have come off, leaving her in nothing but a big plaid shirt. She thinks she can feel fingers insider her but it’s hard to tell where one pain ends, and another starts.

“Almost there, deary.”

“Can’t it be fully there?” she asks.

“We’re going to get you squatting, let gravity do its best work.”

“No!” she whines.

“Samuel is going to use all that brutish force for good and hold you up, okay?” She nods, before talking a gulp. She manages to get back to her feet, despite her body being beat. It takes her a while to find the right squatting position, by the side of the bed with Sam on her right and Jack on her left. She can feel her baby dropping down in her, her body opening up. Suddenly her water gushes out of her, it’s clear and nothing like the dramatic thing she sees on TV. It carries on leaking as her contraction suddenly get more intense.

“I can’t do it,” she cries. “Make it stop.”

“Yes, you can,” Jack says back.

“You got this,” Sam reassures.

“The pressure will get worse but that just means your wee one will be here soon.” That was reassuring for most mothers, but it meant Deanna was another contraction closer to death. She’s surprised at how her body takes over, it automatically pushes and stretches to accommodate her child. She tries to remember any of the breathing exercising Cas has taught her, but her body has taken over and is doing all the work.

Soon, she feels the head against her entrance. It takes a few hard pushes before Rowen says she can see the head. All she can focus on is the odd sensation of her baby working through her pelvis and down the birth canal. Suddenly there is burning as they crown. Rowena grabs her hand and holds it between her legs. She can feel her open entrance, burning and sore, and between it the soft skin of her child’s head.

Their head pops out with a gush of liquid and Deanna lets out a yelp. She can suddenly breathe, Rowena gently holding the head of her baby. She tells Rowena to stop touching her and her child before she knows that she cares. She couldn’t be touched, this moment was just for the two of them. She reaches down and takes her child’s hand in her hands, it’s slippery and slick with fluids. She slowly eases out the body and catches her own daughter. She gasps and she clutches the little girl to her chest.

“Hello, I’m so happy to finally meet you,” she says. Her daughter lets out a loud cry and looks up at her with blue eyes. She falls to her knees in relief and joy. Sam quickly grabs a yellow towel and wraps it around her. “I’m your mommy, you won’t know me for very long, but you have to know how much I love you. How much I loved your father. I never wanted to leave you, never want you to not have a mommy.” She knows it’s pointless to say it to the minute’s old infant, but she has to say those words out loud.

“Samuel, cut the cord,” Rowena tells her. She doesn’t notice any of the cord cutting, she’s too in love with the little girl in her arms

“You have to be a good big sister. You have to be brave and look after your little brother or sister. That’s what big sisters do. They’ll annoy you and sometimes you’ll hate them,” she strokes her little cheeks still slick but entirely perfect, “but you gotta look after them, protect them no matter what.”

“Can I get you up on the bed?” Rowena asks. She climbs with a surprising amount of strength onto the bed, despite her body feeling like it had lost a fight or six. She lays back and watches her daughter snuggle into her chest. She unbuttons her shirt to feel her warm body against her skin. She had always thought baby’s were ugly, Sam had come back from the hospital looking like a little alien. But her daughter was perfect. She was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen.

“She’s so small,” Jack says, sitting on the seat next to her. Sam has started running around doing his Harry Potter nonsense, she pays him no attention. All that mattered was remembering every inch of her daughter’s tiny face.

“Awkward wee bairn you have here,” Rowena says. She barely notices the squeezing and prodding around her. She wishes Cas’ had been here to witness the birth of their first child, his first daughter, to hold her hand and catch their child. Suddenly a contraction comes out of nowhere, but it wasn’t one of those gentle ones from three days ago.

“I need to push,” she says, in shock. “Fuck!”

“Baby is led traverse.”

“Are they okay? Is that bad?” she says, her voice panicked.

“It’ll be okay. Auntie Rowena will solve it. Pass the bairn to Samuel, this may be uncomfortable.” More uncomfortable than the three days of labor? She kisses her daughter on the head and whispers her goodbyes before begrudgingly giving her to Sam.

She lays back and closes her eyes, waiting for the contractions to take over again. She feels Rowena’s nimble fingers on her belly, prodding and squeezing. “I’m going to try to turn this baby.” She nods, not entirely sure what was about to happen. A cold gel is applied to her belly and she watches as Rowena makes smooth motions, slightly pressing down.

She distracts herself with watching Sam clutching her daughter, she’s reaching out to clutch his shirt, her little hand gripping hard onto her uncle. “Looks like they’re cooperating, clearly doesn’t take after their mother,” Rowena says. She carries on for what feels like an eternity, pushing and rubbing, talking to Sam about ingredients and spell work.

“God, I need to push,” she finally says, her legs shaking with holding back her strong natural urges.

“Almost there, thank goodness your children aren’t as impatient as you,” Deanna reaches out to grab Jack’s hand, gripping it tightly and taking deep breaths. Rowena finally lets go and she can let out a deep, shaky breath.

“Can I push now?” she begs, still gripping Jack’s hand.

“The baby is head down now. Shall we move you back to squatting?” She ignores the last part of her sentence, parts her legs and starts pushing. It feels good to let her body finally do what it was meant to. Rowena holds her knee and lets Deanna push her right foot against her as leverage. She feels a gush water and her second child smoothly slides up in one push. She lies back in relief as she hears little cries and splutters.

Her second child is a little blue but appears to be healthy enough to cry. She opens her arms up to quickly hold her second child, but her vision is starting to blur. The cord has already been cut and Rowena is rubbing vigorously at the baby’s back. She desperately needs to hold her child, needs him to be okay, needs to be safe in her arms.

“Deanna!” Jack cries. Her body is paralyzed, her limbs unable to move, her eyes unable to stay open. She never had a chance to thank Rowena, apologize to Jack, tell Sam she loved him. Cas wasn’t here to hold her and tell her it was going to be okay, he would never live with himself and she needed him to know he was forgiven.

“Rosie is always hungry, I swear she eat three times more than Jude,” she hears a voice in the distance say. When she opened her eyes would she be in heaven or hell? She bore a Nephilim, she should be getting a VIP room in heaven with full cable.

“Typical Winchesters,” she hears Cas say, she’d know that voice anywhere. She can’t move, can’t open her eyes.

“Our baby’s they are doing so well,” she hears a voice say, Cas is closer than he is was. She feels his hand reach out and hold hers. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there, I can’t tell you enough how sorry I am. I thought I was doing the right thing. If I wasn’t here, they wouldn’t be able to find you, find them. I love you, I wish you knew that.”

She wants to talk but she can’t move her dry mouth, can’t open her heavy eyes. Instead, she gently squeezes his hand. Her grip isn’t much, but she hopes he notices it.

She drifts in and out of conscious for a few days, hearing her children cry, hearing Cas tell them stories about his exploits with the Winchesters. She finally opens her eyes to the bright lights of the infirmary. She lies there with open eyes for what feels like an eternity before Cas notices.

“Dee, Dee? Can you hear me?” he says, clutching her face in her hands. Her mouth is too dry to speak but Cas soon helps her sit up with a drink. He looks tired and she sees the armchair in the corner he has been spending all his time.

“My babies,” she mutters.

“Rosie and Jude, they are perfect,” he looks at her with a fondness.

“I have to see them,” she says, she tries to climb out of bed.

“Stay there.”

“No,” she interrupts. She has to see them asleep, seem them like a normal mom would see her babies. “Take me to them.” Cas helps her out of bed. She is wearing pyjamas and she knows Cas has washed and dressed her, brushed her hair and cared for her as she slept. Cas helps her to the chair beside the two cribs. They both lay asleep. Her daughter is as perfect as she imagined. Her son is smaller but beautiful, his tiny fist clenched above his head. “I missed so much.”

“Four days,” he says. “They have slept almost as much as you have.” She’s torn, she wants to hold them, but they look so peaceful she couldn’t bear to disturb them.

“Did one of your spells work?” He looks down and nods. “Cas, you saved my life.”

“I wasn’t there when you needed me. I understand if you would never forgive me.”

She grabs his hand and squeezes it. She leans in and kisses him gently. “Only if you promise to never leave me again.”

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this ages ago, felt weird once it all became canon.


End file.
